Silent Sounds
by ForeverMeansAlways
Summary: Emily has two kids that the team doesn’t know about. So how will they react when a series of events cause her to tell them the truth and make her face her worst fears. Takes place beginning of season three. H/P
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Criminal minds

**Summary: **Emily has two kids that the team doesn't know about, how will the team react when a series of events cause her to face her worst fears. Takes place beginning of season three. H/P

**A/N: **Takes place – or starts rather – during In Birth and Death. Oh, in this story, Hotch is divorced by this episode.

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**~Silent Sounds~**

"_A baby will make love stronger, days shorter, nights longer, home happier, clothes shabbier, the past forgotten, and the future worth living for, " ~??_

**Chapter 1 **

Hotch hesitated outside of her apartment. When she told him she was resigning, it baffled him. It had to go beyond her just _wanting _to leave. And then it clicked. He read between the lines and saw her for who she truly was. He admired her for it too, so now he felt awful for not giving her enough credit when she first joined the BAU.

The rest of his team was in Milwaukee. A place he desperately wanted to be, but he wasn't going to go unless she went with him. There was no doubt in his mind that he would be able to convince her to come– or so he thought until he knocked on the door.

Sighing, he waited patiently. Somewhere inside the apartment, a television set was playing loudly, tuned to some Disney movie. He recognized it as _The Lion King. _It was Jack's favorite movie, and Hotch had seen it so many times he could recite it word from word. He was sick of it by now, but it was the only movie Jack would watch. Frowning slightly, he looked at the number on the door again. This was her apartment wasn't it? However, before he could decide if it was or not, the door edged open by barely a crack.

Hotch leaned forward as he regarded the strikingly blue eye peaking out from behind the door. An eye that definitely didn't belong to Prentiss. Instead, it belonged to a young boy with dark hair, who was perhaps seven or eight, and could have been his subordinate's clone. The fragrant aroma of McDonald's, wafted out from the kitchen. It made Hotch's stomach growl appreciatively, which made him realize that he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast that morning.

"I'm sorry," Hotch stuttered, glancing at the apartment number once more. "I think I got the wrong…"

"Hotch?"

He glanced up again to find Prentiss standing behind the boy. He wasn't sure what surprised him more. The boy in the doorway or the _other _child balanced on her hip. The fact that they both held a startling resemblance to the woman he worked with caused him to freeze and do a double take. Prentiss never mentioned kids. Even if they weren't hers, she hadn't said anything about a niece or nephew, let alone a sibling. And because she failed to mention this in the last five month since she joined the team, they eyed each other with a silent dialogue.

"Who's he," the boy asked, breaking both of them from their trance.

Hotch found his voice first. "Can I come in?"

"No," the boy snapped, and Emily's face morphed into utter shock and anger.

"Max, watch your mouth," she scowled. "Take your sister upstairs."

The boy grumbled something under his breath as he took the little girl from Emily's arms. The young girl whined slightly at the transfer. She couldn't have been anymore than five, but the child already looked exactly like Emily. He wondered if they were really hers. Then he wondered why she hadn't told anyone about them if they were.

Stepping into her apartment and ignoring what he just saw, he told her, "The team needs us. They're taking a case in Milwaukee. Gideon hasn't shown up, and don't tell me you quit or put in for a transfer."

Emily huffed as she reached for the remote to stop the movie. It paused, stopping at the infamous scene, Hakuna Matata. He briefly wondered why the subtitles were on, but this thought was pushed aside when she slowly turned to face him. At first, it looked like she was going to say something – perhaps about the kids – but decided with, "You put in for a transfer?"

Hotch took a quick glance around her apartment. The various toys that engulfed the floor and pictures of the two kids that covered the walls told him that there was at least some blood relation between them. He felt his blood boil that there was no man in any of the pictures. Had he left her? He had so many questions running through his head, but the only one he found himself saying was, "They're both still hung up in the system, so technically were still liable to be there."

"I'm sorry. I can't go," she told him sternly.

"Right, sorry I barged in." It took all of his strength and energy to walk away from her. Thankfully, she stopped him.

"Wait. Wait. That's all you have to say?" She was angry, and he felt awful that he was the reason. "You find two kids with me and you don't even question it."

"It's none of my business."

She nodded, accepting his answer. "They're mine," she told him, and then before he could reply to that, she added, "Why are you_ really_ here?"

"I told you." She gave him a look, so he elaborated, "I think Strauss came to you and asked for dirt on me."

"Why would she do that?"

"I think if you have your eyes on top leadership at the FBI, you might want to know who'd stand in your way."

"And what could I have told her?"

She was really agitated now, and he wondered if he knew how much it broke him to see her like this. "That one of my agents might have murdered a suspect in cold blood." Emily raised her eyebrows at that, and he frowned. So maybe she didn't know about that one. He continued anyway, "or another agent might have a serious drug problem which I didn't report. And if Strauss had _any_ evidence, my career would be over. I think she put you on our team and expected something in return. However, to your credit, you quit rather than whisper in her ear."

"I told you I hate politics," was all she had to say.

"Come to Milwaukee," he insisted, completely forgetting about the kids – her kids.

For a moment he could see her spirits visibly rise, but then she glanced at the stairs and that's when he remembered. He saw the light leave her eyes, and he knew then that she wanted to come more than she was letting on. "I can't leave them. I don't spend enough time with them as it is."

"They can come." He wasn't sure why he wanted her to come so bad, but he did. There was something about her that he couldn't let go. She was the best agent he had, and even if he wasn't going to be there in the future, he wasn't going to let the team lose her too. Or at least he told himself that. In reality, he only wanted her to come because he didn't know who he was without her.

Emily frowned at that. "I can't take them with me."

He didn't blame her. He wouldn't bring Jack with him, but he still found himself saying, "Surely you know someone who lives out there."

Hotch watched her hesitate, which was all the proof he needed that he was right. "I don't know… I mean my Nana does, but I don't know…"

"I'll make a deal with you. It you're not packed in a half-hour then I won't bother you anymore. But if you are packed, I want you on that plane."

Emily bit her lip. "I already turned in my badge and gun."

"That's just hardware.

And she grinned at him.

*******

Max was sitting on the very top step of the stairs and hanging on every word of his mother's conversation. His little sister was sitting next to him, but it really didn't make a difference. She didn't have her hearing aid in, and even if she had, she would have been too naïve to know what was going on.

He only caught snippets of the conversation. Something about a place called Milk-Walky, and how his mother resigned from her job. When she told him she had a crappy day, he didn't think it was because she quit her job. And now, some creepy man was at the door, talking to her. Max clenched his fist. If he hurt her...

There was a tug on his sleeve and he glanced down to find his sister staring back at him with the same striking blue eyes as his own. This was the only thing they had inherited from their father. It was a burden they held with them; a reminder that they were still their father's children

His sister signed the word daddy with her hand.

"No," he whispered, but then he remembered she didn't have the hearing aid in, so he shook his head.

"He looks like daddy," she told him, not even bothering to sign it.

He gave his sister credit. She could easily sign if she wanted to. After all, since she couldn't hear what she was saying it would have been easier to sign it, but she chose not too. But then again, it wasn't like American-Sign Language had been in her first language. In fact, it had been her second. His too. And if it wasn't for his father, they never would have had to learn that second language.

"Will he hurt her?" she asked him again, her voice full of fear.

There was a beat of silence that seemed to last forever. He thought about his father who he hadn't seen in a year. He thought of the bruises that matted his mother's body when _he_ was around. His father was over six feet tall. He hadn't even reached five foot yet. He remembered the way his mother put herself in harms way, so his dad wouldn't hurt him. It was a promise he wouldn't be able to make.

So, instead of answering _that_ question, he pulled her into his lap and hugged her. "He won't hurt you," he promised, because it was the only one he knew he would be able to keep.

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**So should I continue???? **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks so much for the reviews. Means a lot and keeps me writing! ...so again. Thanks.**

**Volia! here's the next chapter...**

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_"Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way," ~ Anna Kaenina_

**Chapter 2**

"I don't want to go."

His mother sighed, but she didn't stop packing her bags. "You don't have too," she told him. "You can stay with Mrs. O'Keefe."

Max's face contorted into disgust, and he gave her 'the look'. It was a low blow on his mother's part, for she knew how much he hated that woman and her demon twins. "I rather die."

"You'll stay with your great nana," she continued, as if she hadn't heard him. "You haven't seen her in awhile, and she's excited to see you."

"She's ancient." It was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and as a result, his mother gave him her famous death glare. He did his best to avoid it, but failed miserably. "What? It's true." And it was. The woman was ninety three and still went backpacking across Europe.

Just then, his sister flew into the room and latched herself onto his mother's leg. Max rolled his eyes. Could his sister be any more dramatic?

"Mommy, I don't want to go," she sobbed.

His mother's eyes grew soft – the way they always did when she didn't know what to do. She could deal with one child not wanting to go, but not two. He almost felt sorry for her.

"Sophie," she said calmly. "Why not, sweetie? It'll be like a vacation."

As much as it bothered his sister to have that damn hearing aid in, she was wearing it now. It had cost a fortune for that stupid electronic and surgery. No surprise that he blamed his father. No. That man didn't deserve that title. _It_. That was better. _It _didn't have meaning. _It _didn't connect to anything – especially them.

His sister's lip quivered. "Is _he _coming?"

It took his mother forever to figure out who her daughter was talking about. "Hotch? Yeah. He'll be there. On the way home you can meet my other colleagues as well." A smile let up his mother's face as if she actually wanted this. Well, maybe she did, but he sure as hell didn't.

To late he realized that he had spoken his thoughts outloud because he was telling her exactly that.

She turned to him and sighed. For the briefest of moments he saw something flicker across her eyes, and he immediately regretted it. He knew it wasn't easy for her. Between them and her job, her life was just… complicated. She didn't get any sleep. She worked long hours. Went away all the time.

And yet she could handle it.

He silently wondered if she knew how much he looked up to her. Probably not, but he still wasn't going to tell her this.

She got down to his eye level. "You'll like them," she promised. "And I know how you didn't want me to tell them about you guys, but I promise they won't hurt you."

His piercing blue eyes flashed a darker color– the way they always did when he believed that someone was telling him a lie . "What about you?"

That's when she hesitated, almost as if she was taken back by the question. Sighing, she ran her hand through his hair and pulled both of them into a long hug. "They're family. _Our _family. They won't hurt anyone. I trust them."

"Okay. We can go," Sophie told her as if that answer alone was enough to convince her. And then they turned to him, waiting patiently for his answer. An answer he wasn't willing to give.

His mother gave him a smile that could light up anyone's day – anyone but his that is. He saw through that smile. Saw her ache. Saw those bruises that had long since faded. But his mother didn't need his crap right now, so instead, he whispered, "Okay," because it was better than seeing her break into a million pieces like she'd done in the past.

*******

Hotch awkwardly sat on the jet plane. It wasn't their plane – after all, that one was already in Milwaukee – but it was good enough. How Garcia managed to pull a few strings like that, he couldn't be sure. Making a mental note to thank her later, he turned back to Emily's children.

The little girl, whose name he learned was Sophie, sat next to him. She had a kind smile – like Emily's, but she wouldn't stop staring. And it wasn't in the curious cute type of way. It was almost as if she was studying him, making sure he was harmless. In his book, most five-year-olds didn't care. It bothered him that she did. He pulled his attention to the boy instead, but he was staring – no glaring – at him as well.

It unnerved him.

He normally could handle children, but this… this was different. Maybe if Emily had told him about them he wouldn't have felt so uneasy in their presence, but he did. It also didn't help that they had freakishly blue eyes. A bright entrancing blue. A color he had never seen before. A color that he couldn't pull his eyes away from – no matter how hard he tried. He felt like they were reading his mind. Then, for even thinking such a thought, he felt like he was losing it altogether.

Thankfully, the little girl chose to break the silence, and he let out a deep breath – one he hadn't known he was holding.

"Did you know that a scallop has thirty-five eyes, all blue?"

Hotch's eyes grew wide as he peered down at the little girl. It was something Reid would have said, and Hotch wondered if this was why Emily never got annoyed with the young doctor's random facts and comments. "No. I did not."

Her smile grew wider, and the only thing Hotch could think about was how much she looked like Emily. "Yes, and caterpillars have about four thousand muscles," she continued.

"You're very smart." It was the only words he could find, and yet they tasted wrong, forced. He never expected it to be this hard to make small talk with with a child. "How old are you?"

Sophie hesitated and took a glance at her brother, as if asking for permission. Max signed something to his sister in sign language, and then she signed back. Hotch frowned, wondering if they were talking about him. He knew the boy didn't like him. He wasn't sure about the girl.

Sure he was intimidating, but he didn't scare Jack. However, at a closer look he realized that the boy _wasn't _scared. He was just defensive. He was stiff. He was brave. But the one thing that bothered Hotch the most was that the boy wouldn't stop watching him like a hawk. Something very unlike an eight-year-old to do. Naturally, he wondered why.

He came to the conclusion that there was more to it than what met the eye, but whatever it was it would have to wait, because Emily chose that exact moment to return.

"Hi Mommy," Sophie greeted, even though her mother had been gone for less than four minutes.

"Hi sweet-heart," Emily replied, taking the seat next to her son.

There was a beat of silence. A silence Hotch chose to break.

"They look so much like you."

Emily chuckled, her eyes sparkling. "I hope that's a good thing."

"It is," the boy cut in, almost defensively.

"Max," Emily warned.

Hotch just stared at them. This proved it. Their father had done something. Something to hurt them. Something to make the boy hate him. It was the only explanation. Hotch was sure of it.

"Emily…"

But she must have sensed it coming, because at the same time, she shouted, "Sophie!" the little girl froze and dropped her hand to her lap. "Stop rubbing your ear," Emily scowled lightly.

"But it hurts," she whined.

Hotch smirked. _Now _she sounded like a four-year-old.

"You can take it out," Emily told her, referring to the aid.

He wanted to ask how it happened. From the way the child spoke, he knew she wasn't born deaf. Had the father done this? From under the table, Hotch gripped the edge of the table so hard that he thought he would crack the plastic. He took a deep breath in through his mouth and held it.

"I don't want to." Sophie turned back to him, and almost instantly her ear was forgotten. "Did you know that Dr. Seuss invented the word nerd?"

Hotch shook his head, and then glanced at Emily questionably. She just shrugged. "She reads a lot."

"I'm impressed." And he really was. Not most five-year-olds knew as much as she did. Then again, most five-year-olds didn't read by themselves either. But he figured you would if the world you knew suddenly became quiet with no one to talk to.

"Yes. In the book, _If I ran the Zoo." _

"I did not know that." And he actually enjoyed her randomness, unlike Reid's. Then he felt horrible for even thinking that. He didn't mind Reid's comments – just not when they were in the middle of a case.

Over head, the pilot announced that they would be arriving in five minutes. "We can get two cars if you want," Emily told him. When he just stared at her, completely confused, she elaborated, "I can take them to my nana's, and you can get another car if you want to join the rest of –"

"Oh no," he cut her off. "I'll go with you. Then we can just arrive and battle Strauss together."

At that Sophie's face lit up. "You catch bad guys too?"

Hotch nodded, ignoring Max's huff. "I do."

"How long are we staying at Nana's?" Max asked, the first sentence, longer than two words, he'd said in awhile

Emily took a moment to think about it. "Not too long. If everything goes well, we could be home in a couple of days."

"What if you get hurt?"

And the plane went deathly silent. Hotch could tell from the look on Emily's face that she wasn't asked this often. He could tell from the look on the boy's face that he hadn't meant for it to slip. Was this what it had been like for Jack and Haley - knowing that he just might not come home? Is that why Haley had asked for a divorce?

When he saw that Emily hadn't recovered from the question, he spoke for her, "You're mother won't get hurt. I won't let her."

And because karma was a bitch, he just made a promise he wouldn't be able to keep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the reviews!**

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**Chapter 3**

"_Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.__" Dr. Seuss _

Crimson.

That was the color he saw when he looked at her. It was dripping from her forehead down to her neck, leaving a long trail of blood behind. It made him feel sick. Why had he made a promise to her children? A promise he _knew _he wasn't sure he could keep. In their line of work, anything could happen.

"I promised them you wouldn't get hurt."

She laughed at him. "They'll get over it. I've been bruised worse."

Hotch frowned at that. Since the moment she joined the team, he couldn't remember her ever getting more than a scratch. "How?"

Emily ignored him with another question. "Is it weird that I'm glad to be back?"

He could have said a number of things, but instead he went with, "I'll put in a few words."

There was a beat of silence, which was soon broken by their suspect's annoying shouting as he was ushered into a police car. Hotch turned back to her, with the same frown on his face. Then, remembering that Garcia had told him to smile more, he attempted to force one out. It ended up looking like he was constipated, so he gave up altogether.

Luckily, she didn't seem to notice.

"Hotch, what should I tell them about Sophie and Max?"

The question surprised him. It was the last thing he expected her to say, and for a moment, the words he knew so well were lost. Thinking back, he realized that he couldn't remember a time when Emily wasn't sure of herself, and yet, she was sitting there now, looking at him for help.

Why didn't he have all the answers when it truly mattered?

Hotch pretended to think of an answer, when in reality, he was just studying her. She was frightened he realized. It was almost impossible to see through the solid armor of courage she wore, but the fear was there. Her mind had created an image of bravery and selflessness which she lived off of. It was incredible, and showed just how tough Emily was. He realized then that the protection wasn't to keep people coming in; it was to prevent emotions from spilling out.

She sighed then, breaking him from his thoughts. And because he couldn't think of a good or useful response, he went with the same cliché saying everybody used when they didn't have anything better to say.

"The truth," he said simply before walking away.

*******

Every eye in the plane was focused on Sophie and Max. When he had told Emily to tell the team the truth, he hadn't meant for her to tell them five minutes before they boarded the plane. And because she waited until the last minute, no one could take their eyes off of them. It seemed – to him that is – that they were all in a daze and that perhaps, this was all just some bizarre dream.

But it wasn't.

It was very much a reality, and that scared the hell out of him. He liked her children; don't get him wrong, he just didn't like the fact that there was no father. No father to protect them. When they were with her, he saw the fear in her eyes. Saw the same fear that reflected in his own eyes when he was with Jack.

Here's the thing no one tells you about your own children. Yes, you'd be willing to sacrifice your life for them, but you'd be scared everyday of your life. Not the type of fear you felt while watching a horror movie, but a different type of fear. One only your children can show you. There were just too many things that could go wrong. They could trip, they could break a leg or an arm, they could fail a test, they could start to drive, they could drink under age. And then there was that fear that you might never see them again.

So many things – normal things – to be worried about that it made everybody forget that the criminal wasn't always a thug in a black leather jacket with a big brand on his forehead to warn people away. Criminals sat next to us on the bus. They packed our groceries and cashed our paychecks for us and taught our children. They looked no different from anyone else. And that's why they got away with it.

They were only about ten minutes into the plane ride, but Emily had already passed out cold on the couch, completely exhausted. She had a slight concussion. Nothing too serious, but it still didn't stop his conscience from pounding like a chant inside of his head.

The boy didn't help either.

Max was glaring at him, _again_. Hotch could see it in his eyes. _It's your fault. _No words were spoken, but they might as well have.

"On average, there are 178 sesame seeds on each McDonalds BigMac bun," Sophie broke the enduring silence. She was the first one to really start a conversation, and Hotch could here everyone sigh with relief.

They were eating McDonald's. Emily had picked it up for them on the way to the airport. Max had engulfed his hamburger in all of five minutes, while Sophie hadn't even touched hers. She was too busy playing with the two inch plastic Barbie that came with the kids meal.

Even Reid looked astounded. "Wow. I'm impressed."

"I'm not a baby," Sophie told him defensively, and she stopped playing with the Barbie to prove it.

Reid was clearly taken aback. "Well technically it depends on how old you are. Generally, newborns is classified from birth to twenty-eight days. Babies or infants range between twenty-nine days and –"

JJ cut him off before he could make the little girl even more upset. "Is there something wrong with your cheeseburger, sweetie?"

Sophie studied it for the longest time. "I don't like pickles."

Morgan couldn't have grinned any wider. "I'll take care of that for you, sweet-pea." And he did, which brought a smile to the young girl's face.

*******

All of his mother's colleagues were focused on Sophie.

All expect one that is.

The man- the man who looked so much like his father – was glaring at him, so he glared back. The man – Hotch was it? – had _promised _that his mother wouldn't get hurt. And look what happened.

This proved it.

He didn't trust anyone. Not even his mother. When he'd asked her what had happened she said the bad guy hurt her because she wasn't paying attention. He then proceeded to remind her about Hotch's promise. She frowned at that, and told him promises broke all the time, which was okay.

Yeah, well, so did glass, but you didn't see him smashing the chinaware on the floor just for the kick of things.

She told him that was different.

He didn't think so, but he kept his mouth shut.

Now, Sophie was pulling random facts, which he honestly didn't care about, off the top of her head. And they were all staring at her like she'd grown a second head.

Max had forgotten how strangers reacted to his sister. She was only five years old, but she spoke and read and drew like someone much older than her real age. He loved watching people get freaked out by it. But could he blame them? His sister was only five and was already reading perfectly without the help of others.

She just had that affect on people.

A couple of years ago, Sophie walked in on him when he was in the bathroom. "Hey," he said. "Check this out." He opened his hand and inside was a daddy long leg. He figured she'd run screaming like a tattletale, but instead she sat right down on the edge of the bathtub. She held out her own hand and asked if she could hold it.

Sophie was the only proof that he was born into this family. On the surface they looked the same, but their personalities were polar opposites. However, under the skin, though, they were the same: people who have both lost sight in something. Her in hearing. Him in hope.

*******

"Max," Sophie complained. "Mommy has a boo-boo."

No one missed the death glare the boy sent him. Hotch groaned. It unnerved him that the boy had something against him. It bothered him that he cared so damn much. So what if Emily's son didn't like him. Why did it matter?

But it did.

Emily was family – in an odd sort of way – but nevertheless she was still family, which meant her children were part of his family too. And he _wanted _Max to like him just because. Maybe, if he had done something to piss the boy off he'd understand, but he hadn't.

"She'll be okay," Hotch spoke up, just barely bringing the words to life.

"That's what you said before," the boy shot back.

Like all their conversations so far, there was a beat of silence. A silence – like the last time – he chose to break.

"I know," he told the boy honestly, "and I'm sorry I broke it. But you should know that your mother saved a woman today, and a little boy too." Okay, so the kid hadn't really been at risk of dying, but Max didn't need to know that. He really needed to stop lying to the boy.

"Is she _ever_ going to wake up?" Sophie asked, completely oblivious to everything else around her.

"We'll wake her up when the plane lands," Morgan told her softly.

Sophie's lip began to quiver and her eyes grew cross. Hotch knew that face too well, so he did what any parent would do, he braced himself. 1… 2… 3….

Right on queue she busted into the tears.

And as if Max had all the answers, they all looked at him. However, the only thing he did was tell her, "Stop crying." As a result, this only caused her to cry harder.

Like any mother, Emily stirred awake almost instantly. Hotch wondered how they did it. How they could distinguish their child's cries over another.

She looked dazed, and her eyes frantically searched the plane to fine the source of what woke her. Her gaze relaxed when she saw that it was her daughter.

"Sweetie," Emily said as she tried to cover up a wince. Apparently, her head was still hurting. Hotch frowned. "What's wrong?"

Almost instantly, the girl stopped crying, and he wondered if she was just fooling them. She was at the right age too. The one where the kid was finally catching on that they could just cry to get pretty much anything they wanted. God, how he hated that age, and he prayed that Jack would just skip it altogether.

But the girl did have an excuse. "My ear hurts."

Emily's face lightened as she reached for Sophie's ear. It took her a couple of minutes, and Hotch knew it was from the concussion. The boy knew it too, and Hotch had to look away from his sharp gaze.

Rossi must have seen Emily struggling too because he also sent him a look. However, his look wasn't a glare, only concern. "She won't be able to drive," Rossi pointed out.

Emily thought otherwise, but her protest were just ignored.

"I'll take her home," Hotch offered, and Max sent him another glare.

"Yeah!" Sophie cheered after Emily signed what he had just offered. "Sleepover!"

He felt his cheeks flame, and Max's glare hardened

Yup. It was going to be a long night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Yeah! I'm finally back from vacation!!!! So here is the first of my updates. (Yes, believe it or not, I'm going to update all of my stories.) And I took one line from 'Handle With Care," written by Jodie Picoult and a few lines from The Movie 'Crash' because I love this scene so much and it just fits and I'm working it into my story for later chapters =) ****Sorry for any grammer errors. It's late, just got back from vacation, so give me a break.**

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**Chapter 4**

"_Whatever they grow up to be, they are still our children, and the one most important of all the things we can give to them is unconditional love. Not a love that depends on anything at all except that they are our children.__" Rosaleen Dickson _

At an early age Max learned that things break all the time. Like glass and toys and cars. But his father showed him how to fix them, so when his father wasn't around he'd be able to fix them too.

Just like daddy.

Max scoffed at the thought. Believe it or not, there had been a time when his father was the best dad in the whole wide world. His father took him fishing, read him bedtime stories, played soccer with him at the park. However, that memory felt like a lifetime ago, and with each passing day, Max slowly forgot what it was like to once look up to someone and want to be just like them.

He couldn't remember exactly when things started to change, but he believed that it was sometime after his father went away for six months and then came back all banged up. For the longest time his father just sat and stared out the window like the end of the world was coming. They begged him to talk, and when his mother did finally get him to, his words were nothing but sour and hurtful. His father made his mother cry most nights and she threatened to leave him, which she never really tested until it was too late.

_Mom, what's war? _

That's the question Max asked her the day after his father hit her for the first time. He could remember it so clearly, all he had to do was close his eyes and he'd be there. The bruise on her face was clear as day, large as plum – the same color too. He watched her lip quiver as if she was going to cry again, but she bit it and just like that, she pulled herself together to give him an answer.

She told him it was bad. She told him it was when people fought and died. She told him it was wrong. She told him it changed people.

_Like dad? _

She nodded, but then told him people could start over at any given moment. All they needed was some help along the way. And he could see it in her eyes that she was going to get the man who she once loved back. But how could she have known that his father was going to pull her into his own pool of sorrow and make her drown with him?

But it only got worse from there. And he truly felt that it was his fault because he should have been able to stop it. First his mother, then him, then Sophie.

Ironically, the day after his father first hit him, he had to give a report on what his father taught him over the years. You'd think he would have been nervous about it, but he wasn't. Like he said before, he learned a lot of things from his father.

How to fish. How to fix stuff when things broke. He learned that alcohol and the death of a close friend could change someone. War too could do that. He also learned how to break someone's heart. How to break people too. How to tell good from bad. But most importantly, he learned how a parent could possibly hit a child. It wasn't out of anger, like you'd think. It was because – his father's words, not his – you could look into their eyes and see a reflection of yourself that you wish you hadn't.

Two great things came out of his report that day.

He got an A and the police took his father away from them.

*******

"Max did you know…"

" – No. I don't care."

But his sister wasn't wearing her hearing aid, so she couldn't hear him. "That starfish have…."

But all he heard was, "Blahblahblahblah."

Just like that he blocked her out. Why? Because she was his sister and he could. She wouldn't even know. Okay, so he was being rude, but he didn't care. Thanks to Morgan (or was it the skinny kid? He couldn't be sure) his sister was now hyped up on chocolate. He groaned. All he wanted to do was go to bed, and he definitely wasn't staying up to watch her. Smirking slightly, he sent an uneasy glance towards the agent. Yeah, he could watch her. Maybe, _that _would teach him to stay away.

The guy stood awkwardly in the middle of the apartment, with his mother in his arms. Let's be honest, the guy looked like he was from planet Mars, perhaps he lived there too. After all, he looked like he just wondered into the twilight zone or something. If it was anybody else Max would have offered to give some help, but because it was this guy – Hotch, was it? – he wanted to make him feel unwelcome.

"Where's her bedroom?" Hotch finally asked.

"Upstairs. At the end of the hall."

Hotch nodded. "Remember. When she wakes up I did _not _carry her. Okay? She woke up herself."

And because everyone expected him to be the pest, he said, "So we're going to lie?"

Hotch shrugged, playing along with him. "You can call it whatever you want." And with those words said, Hotch disappeared up the stairs and out of site.

*******

Hotch sat on the side of the little girl's bed. She had willingly put her hearing aid back in just so he could read her a story – something Emily always did before she went to bed. He sighed, wishing that the child was Jack. He hadn't seen his son in three weeks and Hotch missed him more than anything.

"Goodnight," he whispered, before leaning down to kiss her on the head. It was an old habit with Jack, and he realized too late that this wasn't his child. Luckily, Sophie didn't seem to take notice of it.

"Are you going to be our new daddy?" she asked him in a way only a child could ask.

He frowned slightly. "No," he told her gently. "What gave you that idea?"

Sophie stared up at him with those entrancing eyes again, but this time her gaze portrayed nothing but frustration. "Because you love her," she told him as if it were that obvious.

His frown deepened. "Not in that way."

"Sure you do. I can hear it in the way you say her name," she told him with a smile so innocent Hotch felt his heart break.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't have to say I love to say I love," she said it with a shrug. "All you have to do is say her name and I know."

"How?"

"Can't you hear it?" she said. "When you love someone, you say their name different. Like it's safe inside your mouth."

Hotch could have argued with her, could have made a point to tell her that he wasn't in love with her mother, but he wasn't willing to have this conversation with a five-year-old. And then it dawned on him. Sophie was right. He _did_ say Emily's name differently, but he couldn't possibly be in love with her. Could he? Sighing, he blinked rapidly to clear that thought from his head. He didn't - couldn't - think about that now...ever.

"You look like daddy," Sophie told him after a moment of silence.

Now this surprised him. Was this why the boy hated him so much? "Oh?" But the child must not have heard the question in his voice because she just continued to stare up at him. "Hey, Sophie. Can I ask you something?"

She bit her lip, considering it. "Sure."

"What happened to your ear?"

Her face contorted as she tried to pull the memory from the back of her head. "There was a bang," she told him eventually.

"Like a car bang?" Hotch asked. Even he could hear the hope in his voice. God, he was pathetic. He was a profiler for god sake, and he knew – know matter how much he wished it was– it wasn't an accident.

She looked away from him. "No. Like a gun."

"That's funny," he said, trying to push her for more information. "Because there's not to many guns around here."

"I don't like guns," she told him timidly.

Hotch inhaled sharply. He kept telling himself that he prepared himself for the worse, but this still didn't make it any easier. "I don't think you have to worry about them now."

Sophie played with the tattered edges of the blanket which was wrapped around her. Never had he thought she looked so small, so scared. "How far can bullets go?" she asked him, looking up at him with a silent plea he couldn't quite place.

"They go pretty far," he told her honestly, "but they usually get stuck in something."

"What if they don't?"

"Thinking about your father?" Hotch raised an eyebrow in question, and when she only shrugged, he reached out to squeeze her hand. "He can't hurt you. Not anymore."

But from the way tears glistened in her eyes, he knew she didn't believe him. "You don't know that," she whispered, her words striking him like a whip. "You can't make that promise. He _can_ hurt us. He _can_ come back."

The girl was right. She was only five, yet she knew this when she should believe in unicorns and fairies. Hotch wanted nothing more than to kill the bastard that was her so called father. And from that moment on he vowed to never let that man come back into their life again, and if he did, Hotch wouldn't hesitate to shoot him. "I won't let him, Sophie. Now, go to bed. "

"Wait!" the girl cried. "Don't go."

"Why not?"

"I…I'm scared."

Hotch sighed. "There's nothing to be scared off. He can't hurt you. Not anymore."

"You don't know that," she argued.

Seeing that this conversation was going nowhere, he chose a different path. "Ah, hold on."

"What?" Sophie asked anxiously, sensing his change of mood.

"I'm so stupid! How could I forgot!?" Hotch buried his head in his hands, pretending to be upset.

"What?"

"Forget it… you won't believe me."

Sophie frowned and angrily, she tugged on his sleeve. "Please tell me."

"Okay." He forced himself to look her straight in the eye. "When I was your age this fairy came into my room one night…"

"Right." Sophie rolled her eyes. "There's no such thing. Max already told me."

Hotch poked her on the nose. "See... I told you that you weren't going to believe me." He waved goodbye and patted her on the head. "Okay, go to sleep…"

"No!" she practically cried. "Tell me. Please?"

Hotch smiled a full hearted smile before continuing his story. "So this fairy's flying around the room… and I'm like 'yeah right you're a fairy.' She had these little stubby wings, like she could have glued them on, you know? Like I'm going to believe she's a fairy." He paused to let this sink in and Sophie laughed at his description. "So she said, 'I'll prove it.' So she reaches into her backpack and she pulls out this invisible cloak and she ties it around my neck. She tells me that it's impenetrable. You know what impenetrable means?"

"No."

"It means nothing can go through it. No bullets, nothing. She told me that if I wore it, nothing would hurt me. So I did. And my whole life, I never got shot, stabbed, nothing." It hurt to lie, but how could he have told her that her father could come back and hurt them again. He didn't want her living in fear. "I mean, how weird is that? Only, she told me that I was suppose to give it to my daughter on her birthday, but I don't have a daughter. So I was thinking maybe you could have it," he finished.

A smile lit her face. "Can I touch it?"

"Yeah, go ahead." Hotch held out his arm.

"I don't feel it."

"It's pretty cool. If you want… I can take it off and tie it around your shoulders… unless you think it's stupid."

"Don't you need it?" Sophie asked softly.

"No, not anymore. So do you want it?" Hotch watch as she bit his lip, fighting the urge to give in. However, it only took a matter of seconds before a smile lit Sophie's face.

*******

When he closed Sophie's door behind him, the boy was leaning against the wall, staring up at him with wide eyes. But not like he had been. This look was one of confusion and utter hopelessness. And for what felt like an eternity they just stared at each other, locked in a silent stand off.

"Why'd you do that?" Max asked, breaking the silence between them.

"What?"

"Give her a cloak that doesn't exist."

"Because," Hotch told him simply. "She's young. She needs something to believe in."

Max just stared at him for the longest time, and Hotch truly believed that the kid was going to make some smartass comment, but the boy did exactly the opposite of what he had been expecting. Instead, Max burst into silent tears. It came off as such a shock, that Hotch didn't know what to do or say.

"What about me?" Max choked out. "Do I not get anything to believe in?"

Max presented himself in a way that made him seem older than he really was, and it made Hotch forget that the child was only eight. Hotch realized that it wasn't because the boy wanted to or was born that way, but because he _had _too. For years, Max had created this mask and now that it was breaking, Max didn't know what to do. It didn't take long for Hotch to make the connection that it was the same mask Emily wore.

"Everybody needs something to believe in," Hotch told him.

The boy looked up at him with teary eyes. "Well, what do you believe in?"

"I just remember that light trumps darkness every time. You can stick a candle into the dark, but you can't stick the dark into the light. If you know that," Hotch told him softly, "Then that's the only hope you'll need."

And before he knew it, the boy flung himself into his arms and Hotch caught him against his chest. "I don't want him to come back. I don't want him to hurt them anymore," Max admitted in heart wrenching sobs. "I don't want to be strong anymore."

Hotch inhaled sharply. "You don't have too."

And right then and there, Hotch vowed to keep that promise, even if his life depended on it. And as Max held onto him for dear life, Hotch didn't dare let go. More than anything he wanted to show him that the world wasn't all bad, that there were good people. But how could he make Max believe this when they were out fighting criminals everyday? You know, he became an FBI agent because he wanted to save people. But he should have been more specific. He should have named names.

* * *

**After writing this I realized that maybe that's why Emily took the beaten so well with Cyrus. Maybe she was abused in the past. That's sorta how I came up with this idea. **

**So anywho, I hope this update was okay.**


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